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With no lottery luck, the Bulls have a plan, right? … Right?
With no lottery luck, the Bulls have a plan, right? … Right?

New York Times

time13-05-2025

  • Sport
  • New York Times

With no lottery luck, the Bulls have a plan, right? … Right?

At the end of another miserable season in 2019, John Paxson, the man who lucked into Derrick Rose 11 years prior, said of the team's lottery-bound future, 'Luck and hope are not a strategy or a plan. We have to plan.' The Bulls didn't have any luck that spring in the NBA lottery and their plan to get immediately better involved an unhealthy dose of Jim Boylen. Six years and some change later, the franchise is only a little better off. Advertisement Now coached by the Hall of Fame-bound Billy Donovan, the Bulls are still a losing franchise, but in a more respectable way. They still don't have any luck or hope. And they don't have much of a plan either. Many years ago, when the Bulls were relevant and the future was bright, a couple of reporters asked Scott Skiles, the former coach of the Bulls, about the current state of the team with Derrick Rose and Tom Thibodeau. 'We're all pretty foolish if we don't realize the effects of luck in life,' he said that night. 'It's pretty lucky the Bulls got Derrick Rose. When you look at the percentages, that's very lucky.' The Bulls had a 1.7 percent chance to win the lottery (and select Rose) in 2008, months after Skiles was fired. Three years later, the hometown kid would become the youngest MVP in league history before a series of knee injuries decimated him and the franchise. Throwback to the 2008 NBA Draft Lottery… Can lightning strike twice? 🙏 — Chicago Bulls (@chicagobulls) May 12, 2025 Chicago had a 1.7 percent chance to win Monday night's 2025 lottery and the rights to Duke big man Cooper Flagg, the kind of prospect who can seemingly put a franchise on his back. He's exactly what the Bulls needed to get back to relevancy. But luck wasn't on the Bulls' side. As it turned out, a random drawing last month to break a tie between two 39-43 teams decided where Flagg would go. The Dallas Mavericks' 1.8 percent chance to win the lottery came true in dramatic fashion in Chicago. The Bulls stayed in their predicted No. 12 slot. The Bulls earned their sub-.500 record the old-fashioned way, by being painfully subpar for much of the season before turning it on at the end when half the league had given up. Meanwhile, Dallas GM Nico Harrison got rewarded for his historically awful trade of Luka Dončić. Advertisement Were you even paying attention on April 21 when the league did its tiebreakers through random drawings? There were five tiebreakers decided that day. The one you care about involves the Bulls and Mavericks, who had identical records. The drawing was held less than a week after the Bulls bowed out of the Play-In Tournament after losing to the Miami Heat for the third consecutive year. The Mavs' season from hell also ended in the 9-10 game. Did Harrison deserve his good fortune? Of course not. But that's the point of luck. You can position yourself to be 'lucky,' but the result is just chance. The Dallas Mavericks have won the right to select Cooper Flagg with the No. 1 pick. But the surprising NBA Draft order impacts the other lottery teams immensely.@Sam_Vecenie's post-lottery mock draft ⤵️ — The Athletic (@TheAthletic) May 13, 2025 It wasn't a coin flip — instead a 'random drawing' — but it would have been poetic if it were. Actual coin flips were how the Bulls lost the right to draft Magic Johnson in 1979 and how the Bears forfeited the chance to draft Terry Bradshaw in 1970. The latter produced one of my favorite quotes about the Bears. Ed McCaskey, George Halas' son-in-law, represented the Bears at the coin toss and called heads. Commissioner Pete Rozelle's silver dollar landed on tails and Art Rooney's Steelers got Bradshaw, who led them to four Super Bowl victories. 'I had dinner with Art Rooney after the coin toss,' McCaskey said to Chicago Tribune sportswriter Fred Mitchell in 1997, 'and he said to me: 'You're supposed to be a sharp guy. You never call (the coin toss). That's a sucker play.'' Apparently, McCaskey didn't share this bit of Rooney wisdom (the old man was a famous horse bettor) with Bulls GM Rod Thorn at the end of the decade when the Bulls and Lakers were vying for Johnson, the electric Michigan State sophomore. Advertisement 'Bill Sharman and I were on the call with the league,' Thorn said to Hall of Fame writer Sam Smith years ago. 'He was representing the Lakers at the time. The people in New York were asking us who wanted to call it. I immediately said we had this fan vote and, 'Bill, if it's OK with you, let me call it.' Bill said fine. So I called it heads. It came out tails.' The Lakers got Johnson, the Bulls got, uh, David Greenwood. Of course, it all turned out OK for Chicago. Five years later, they got Michael Jordan. Meanwhile, the Bears hope Caleb Williams, drafted 54 years after Bradshaw, can be their elusive franchise quarterback. Paxson might've been right about luck not being a plan, but his team (he still works for the franchise) doesn't seem to have one of those either. Critics say the middle is the worst place to be in the NBA, but the Bulls are slightly below the so-called 'mushy middle.' In the 10 seasons since firing Tom Thibodeau, the Bulls are 349-444 with two playoff appearances and three playoff victories. Over the last three seasons, they haven't even been at .500 after the first week of November. Their average finish in the last decade is 10th place in the East. This is a team that needed luck in the worst way. The front office has proved it doesn't have what it takes, but so, too, has ownership. Bulls executive vice president of basketball operations Artūras Karnišovas' greatest value seems to be making everyone wistful for Paxson, whose run atop the franchise now looks like the good ol' days. Many thought the Bulls should tank this season, but it's true the reconfigured NBA lottery odds has weakened that strategy. Record-wise, only one of the bottom four teams is drafting in the top four this summer. However, they're all sitting better than the Bulls at No. 12. The Bulls have an exciting young player in Matas Buzelis, last year's lottery pick, along with Josh Giddey (who is going to get overpaid this summer) and the closest thing the team has to a star in Coby White. But they don't have much else. Advertisement At the trade deadline, Karnišovas earned more mockery with his sketch of a plan that involved the Bulls winning with 'nine or 10 really good players' instead of scheming to land a superstar to save them. It was a nice thought, just completely out of whack with reality. The NBA has always been a superstar-driven league, and Flagg sure seems like he could be one of those. The Bulls couldn't tank to get Flagg and they weren't lucky enough to land him. But they were close enough to make it sting. What's next for the Bulls? Another 30-something-win season, I imagine, and we'll be right back here next year, praying for good fortune. Anyone have a rabbit's foot? (Photo of Billy Donovan and Matas Buzelis: Melissa Tamez / Icon Sportswire via Getty Images)

The Suns' failed season symbolizes a deeper hopelessness
The Suns' failed season symbolizes a deeper hopelessness

Yahoo

time27-04-2025

  • Sport
  • Yahoo

The Suns' failed season symbolizes a deeper hopelessness

The 2024–25 Phoenix Suns season wasn't just a disappointment. It was a profound failure. And maybe we're still too close to it, too entangled in the moment to fully grasp its place in the broader arc of Suns' history. Without the distance of time or the benefit of hindsight, there's no need for a poll to ask if this was the most disheartening chapter the franchise has written. The answer would be an overwhelming, almost unanimous yes. Disappointment wears many faces in Phoenix. It's the sting of a Game 7 meltdown after a 64-win season, the hollow ache of a 2–0 NBA Finals lead slipping through trembling fingers, the helplessness of watching a 19-win roster limp through winter nights with no hope in sight. It's the pain of seeing a season's potential shattered by injury, like in 2000, or by a single unlucky break — like Joe Johnson's in 2005 — that changed everything. It's the slow-motion heartbreak of John Paxson's dagger, of Mario Elie's kiss of death, of Tim Duncan's impossible three, of Metta World Peace ripping your heart out and laying it gently in the basket. Advertisement So yeah, disappointment is the norm in Phoenix. It's practically woven into the fabric of the franchise. But is this the most disappointing season ever? Only time, and a little distance, will offer enough clarity to answer that question. What I do know is that this season represents something far darker than just disappointment. It symbolizes hopelessness. In every heartbreak before this, there was always something to cling to. A great team that came up just short. A promising young core. Draft capital. A future you could believe in, even if the present let you down. But this season? This was the all-in gamble. The Suns traded the future for Kevin Durant, then doubled down and threw the scraps of what remained into the pot for Bradley Beal. Two seasons later, they've come up with nothing. Not a playoff series win. Not even a Play-In berth. Just a bloated payroll, a barren asset cupboard, and a franchise staring into the abyss, unsure of how to climb out. And that's where the real hopelessness sets in. Because the Suns didn't just trade the future for a mediocre present. They traded it for this. For a team spinning its wheels, trying to play catch-up in a race it used to lead. They had a young, exciting, hungry core — one that was building something real — and they threw it away for big names, big contracts, and even bigger egos. Advertisement Is there a way out? Sure. There's always a path forward. But standing here, in the smoldering aftermath, it feels like the weight of Jupiter is pressing down on this franchise's chest. Trade Durant? Fire Budenholzer? Renegotiate Beal's deal? Nail a late first-round pick? Each move feels critical. Each step has to be flawless. It's not just about getting back to being competitive. It's about restoring belief. Rebuilding trust. Giving the fan base something to dream about again. Because right now, that's what's been lost the most: hope. I was in the arena against the Golden State Warriors last Tuesday night, and I don't think I've ever felt more deflated as a fan. There were cheers, sure. But they weren't for the Phoenix Suns. They were for the Warriors. And as I looked around, it became clear: Suns fans? They're lost. Hopeless. Disappointed. Too tired to boo. Too disengaged to care. Will time tell if this is the most disappointing season in the franchise's history? Maybe. But right now, all I feel is hopelessness. Sure, I'll continue watching, keep an eye on the transactions, and keep brainstorming ways to get this team back on track. Why? Because we're fans. Fanatic is what it stands for. We're fanatical about the purple and orange. This team is part of who we are—our soul, our identity. Advertisement But never in my years of following the Suns have I entered an offseason with this much despair. It feels as though the wrongs of this season can't be righted for at least a decade. And it's going to take something extraordinary to shock me out of this funk. But I'll hold on to that faint hope that maybe we can still be surprised. Listen to the latest podcast episode of the Suns JAM Session Podcast below. Stay up to date on every episode, subscribe to the pod on Apple, Spotify, YouTube, YouTube Podcasts, Amazon Music, Podbean, Castbox. Please subscribe, rate, and review. More from

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